Selection 18 of
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Chalakudy
by Sunita Fernandes
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With the first whine of the riverboat's motor kicking into life, the afternoon's lazy silence exploded. The revving propeller left a trail of rippled molten silver in its wake as it sliced through the placid, thick, green-black river. Tall coconut palms stood like sentries along the banks as if keeping guard over the river's course as we headed back. I waved at children playing by the river-side. A little boy waved back hesitantly. Further ahead, thick clumps of trees freshly washed by the monsoon rain broke the continuity in the horizon. Separating the river from the sky, bending the river in its path towards somewhere... Later, the train to Bangalore swayed on the tracks as it gathered speed, its wheels churning forward to the chant of my rosary. Neon-green paddy stalks stuck out neatly on flooded square fields, yearning to bear fruit. Stewards sold tea and coffee in large steel cans, walking up and down through all the coaches at least a hundred times, within the two hours before dinner. Did they believe that all that people ever did on the train was to sip tea and drink coffee? |
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